


Bitter Sweet Fool

by lothlenan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Romance, lothlenan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 21:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13935420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lothlenan/pseuds/lothlenan
Summary: Lavellan and Solas find one another in the Fade, their dreams linking them. What benefits can they reap? Originally posted to my tumblr (lothlenan.tumblr.com)





	1. Bitter Sweet Fool: Part 1

“I’m going to rest,” Lavellan said. She sat slumped over the war table, one hand cradling her head and the other — well. There was only one hand these days. A wrinkle above her brow betrayed an unresolved bit of frustration.

Lace Harding was studying a map of Rivain carefully, but grunted in agreement. “Right, it’s been a long evening. We can pick things up after a good night’s sleep. I’ve got a message to send out first, though. Leliana?”

Cassandra and Leliana exchanged a brief look, and then the three ladies bid Lavellan a goodnight. All things considered, it had been an exhausting day for everyone.

With her small band of allies, former Inquisitor Lavellan was doing all she could to try and track Fen’Harel down. They were utilizing every contact, every agent, every person who owed them a favor. An ancient elvhen god was no meek prey, and the Dread Wolf knew how to hide himself well. Or Solas, as he preferred to be called. 

She winced. 

Every time the word ‘god’ crossed her mind, she did a quick mental check. He would hate for her to call him that… a god. He only ever wanted to help people. Just as she had unwillingly become Andraste’s Herald, he too had been donned the Dread Wolf. Neither of them asked for it, and neither of them were truly what they were purported to be. In fact, there was still a small pang of guilt every time someone referred to her as the Herald — just as there was a cut of guilt in Solas’ voice as he had explained to her who he was. And why he was.

Scaling the stairs to her room, Lavellan absently noted the smell of evergreen needles hanging loose in the air. It was the smell of familiarity. Skyhold had become her home, even now that the Inquisition was dissolved… it was hers. The Tarasyl'an Te'las was all she had left, and it was the greatest gift he had ever given her. As she ascended the steps, memories brushed past her like curtains in the wind. Sounds of flirtatious laughter, hurried footsteps, and hushed words. All a reminder of the rare occasion when Solas would escort her through these corridors.

She undressed and buried herself deep in to the silks of her bed. The rich fabric was cool against her skin, slipping around her like a cocoon. After Solas had left her, she used to lay in bed and imagine she could still smell him on the sheets. She had even given explicit requests that no one clean them — and it had remained that way until all remnant of his scent faded. She liked to imagine she could smell him even now, and still see his silhouette beneath the covers. Dreamily, she stretched her good arm out, and felt with sadness the empty space where her palm rested.

Another sigh passed her lips, and she leisurely inhaled the night air. As was her habit these days, she had left her balcony doors wide open. The stars winked at her from across the terrace. The warm summer breeze drifted in and filled her lungs, and she found the tenseness of the day melt away.

The Fade was a comfort. She’d grown to cherish her time dreaming, and often wondered what Solas would think of her new habit. It was a special place that brought her a warmth and solace which she desperately clung to, and she often went to bed purely for its kind embrace. 

 

Like he had now, oftentimes Cole would meet her here. This place was their very own special pocket of the Fade; it held a peaceful serenity that looked like the woods where she’d grown up, and they’d often have little curious conversations about matters both big and small. She would unburden herself to him, and in turn he would be cryptic and kind. It was a very one sided sort of conversation, usually. 

She wondered, though. What did Cole occupy himself with now that he was here in the Fade? If it were possible, he seemed even more ambiguous than he used to be. And sometimes, the air felt heavy around him when he spoke to her — an uncomfortable weight. It was as if something here burdened him. Cole, who specialized in solving the complications of people’s problems, somehow seemed troubled himself. Even so, despite her prodding, he would only express concern for her own well being. It was even harder to pin down his demeanor now that he had fully embraced the Fade — he was more transient than ever. Nonetheless, she sensed something amiss. Cole was and always had been an open book, but a book written entirely in cipher. If something was troubling him, it was lost in translation. She could only guess at the words he didn’t say, or try and attempt to feel the core of their meaning deep down. If only Solas were here…

She stopped herself from thinking on it further. Cole noticed her abrupt change in thought, and sensed the pain she avoided. He chewed on his lip, eyes hidden by that wide brimmed hat of his. She thought he started to say something, but stopped abruptly. Instead, he gave her a weighted look. She sensed he wasn’t looking at her so much as through her, like he could see past the back of her head. She turned.

A few yards away was a wolf, black as night and huge as a halla. It watched her from the shade of a giant yew tree, eyes gleaming a dim and reflective red. It was a familiar sight. She’d seen him before, time and time again.

“He’s come again,” Lavellan murmered, her foot instinctively taking a step forward.

The wolf took a step of its own in the opposite direction, keeping its distance. Its eyes bore in to hers, and she couldn’t help but sense a sadness in their gaze.

“He dreams himself here,” Cole admitted. “He meant to rest, but his mind wanders. If he keeps away, he thinks he will be safe.”

“Safe from me?” Lavellan whispered, hurt.

Cole watched the wolf as it set its gaze on him, silent and meaningful. “It’s a part of him that he can’t fully control. The Fade gives it life. It’s his mind’s mind, apart from itself but a reflection of his desire. Yes. Like his reflection. It likes to walk around when he doesn’t know it’s missing.”

“Does Solas… know?”

Cole nodded. “…yes. But he only realizes after.”

Her brow furrowed, and she looked to Cole meaningfully, “Every time I step toward him, he falls back. Every time I chase him, he runs. I can’t even get a tiny bit closer…” she said, sadness permeating the silence between her words.

“… Solas doesn’t control this one. The closer you get, the more instinct takes hold and it goes back to safety.”

“…to safety?”

“To him,” he explained.

“To…. him?”

Cole nodded, and while the brim of his hat hid his face, she thought she could sense him smiling. “You could chase him home, if you like?”

“How far?” she asked.

“Does it matter?”

“…No.”


	2. Bitter Sweet Fool: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rabbit chases the wolf. What dangers lay ahead?

Time likes to slip by at its own pace. It may skirt by fast as a moment… or sometimes achingly slow; like syrup oozing down an ice cold glass. Lavellan felt this distinction more clearly with each visit to the Fade. She was acutely aware that the Fade worked without the concept of time and reality, once could live out two lifetimes in the Fade while only hours pass in the real world. And while she may not know the Fade like the back of her hand, she certainly had a better grasp on it than any Dalish or Circle mage ever did. She was at ease with this, and used it to her advantage. The Fade had become a second home. Her eyes were opened.

This awareness was a blessing. Lavellan lucidly walked her dreams, now… and even managed to replace her missing hand. When Cole saw this for the first time, she waved it in the air menacingly and said, “It’s my phantom limb!”

He laughed out of pity.

And so it was that Lavellan felt she had traveled for days and days, though she knew mere minutes had passed. This distortion of time was exhausting, and tolled her mind as well as her stamina — but her resolve was unyielding. Time was limitless, and even the landscape itself refused to be grounded by anything as frivolous as rules. Ever changing, only Cole was her constant. Cole, and the Wolf.

“Someone is watching,” Cole warned as they walked.

Lavellan tread quietly. She didn’t dismiss Cole’s warning, but there were always eyes watching them. She was an anomaly to the denizens of the Fade – an attraction. Attention was nothing out of the ordinary. Most were mere shades, but sometimes they had skirted around a demon or two. Any spirits they encountered were met with respect, but a quick departure.

Weeks seemed to race by as they followed the Wolf’s trail, and the Fade had shifted over a hundred times around them. If she paid close attention, she could recognise much of the landscape about her, stolen from memories and shifting in to a new reality. What surrounded her was a distorted reflection of an amalgamation of memories, and at its essence, it was beautiful. Parts of it were Skyhold, the starry sky of the Hissing Wastes, even the trees she climbed in the forest where she had grown up. But there were also things she didn’t recognise. Little artesian shrubs, crystals shaped like statues, and small flowers with colour changing petals.

“What are these, Cole?” she asked, gesturing to a sweet swarm of blossoms on the ground. Their colours shifted from red to yellow, to white and pale purple.

“I don’t know the name,” Cole began. “I don’t remember them outside the Fade. Only here, when Solas is near. Sweet, like spearmint and sugar. The Wolf likes them too.”

She thought about that. “From before Arlathan’s fall,” she guessed. “Before the fall of the Veil?” 

Cole didn’t reply.

They walked onward, the shadow of Fen’Harel keeping pace fifteen or so yards ahead. It was a long journey, she knew, and her mind grew heavy from the lull in conversation. She looked at Cole and smiled, craving a crack in the silence. “How do you like it here, Cole? Have you made new friends?”

“I talk to Solas. I get to see you — the full you. The real you. It’s nice. You still glow.”

She laughed at that – glowing. Sometimes she missed the glow upon her hand. It was a feeling of power and wholeness that she now pined for in its absence. And Solas? She had known that Cole and Solas speak in the Fade. She often wondered what their discussions entailed, and had enquired more than once. Cole never expounded on the subject, however, so she knew better than to try now. Instead, she chose a different path. “And what about others? Have you met spirits or demons?” Her queries were casual at best, but Cole deliberated his response.

“Both. Demons are not very nice. I try not to talk to them when they’re angry, but that’s never. Spirits are better. They ask about you.”

This interested her, so she encouraged him to tell more. 

“Most are little, but some are big. One is very big. And… please don’t be angry with me. But sometimes I let her watch.”

This took Lavellan aback. “Her? Let her watch what?”

Cole hesitated. “She is… entranced by you. So she wanted to see.”

“Me?” Lavellan was truly flustered now. “Wait, when you said someone was watching us earlier… was that what you meant?”

Cole was visibly uncomfortable. “Yes. Is that… bad? She hides and takes you in. She wanted to learn about you, but—” he looked at her, stressing his words, “…she’s not here to hurt you. She is love and wisdom and lots of really nice things.”

“She’s here?” Lavellan looked around, thinking. Watching. She stopped, and when he wasn’t being followed anymore, the Wolf stopped, too.

Cole appeared distraught. “Are you angry? I can’t tell…”

Lavellan shook her head, “No, Cole, I’m not angry…”

“You are confused,” he amended.

Lavellan was still surveying the Fade, trying to see where a spirit might hide. “She’s Love and Wisdom, you said? I didn’t know a spirit could be two things at once.”

Cole smiled, “She’s special. And she wants to meet you. Now is better than never.”

In the corner of her eye, Lavellan saw something move. If she hadn’t known better, she would think it a mere trick of the light. But she did know better. She wheeled round, the shadow melting away and giving form to a blur of bright luminosity. And then she was there: a radiant spirit. It took the shape of a beautiful lady. Long white hair formed a foamy cloak atop her even whiter, brighter skin. She wore a crown that could have been woven ivory – but upon closer inspection, Lavellan thought it might actually be horns forming from her head. Her lips were pale. Her eyes milky. The Fade shifted around her like a delicate rainbow aurora. A pleasant smile flashed from her lips, and she gave a small dip at the waist. That was when Lavellan noticed she had legs like a goat. “Aneth ara,” her voice sounded like a song, delicate and beautiful.

Lavellan attempted to say something eloquent in greeting, but in her stupor, couldn’t stammer anything out at all. She suddenly felt quite small, and only smiled in return.

Cole, on the other hand, was beside himself. Under the brim of his great big hat, a grin split his face, ear to ear. “You’ve finally met! I’m glad. We’re friends, so you can be friends too. I like her– she’s a spirit Spirit.”

She bowed her head, smiling softly. “I am Spirituality.”

Cole’s friend, Spirituality, was awe inspiring. A woman of true amaranthine beauty and elegance. Somehow, she managed to brim with even more intellect than she did grace — and she was the very definition of grace. A fountain of knowledge, she was was not afraid to share it. In turn, Lavellan answered as many questions as she was asked. Oddly, most of the things Spirituality questioned weren’t attempts to whittle out facts, but rather opinions. What did she think about something, what did she feel? It was refreshing. Lavellan could not help but wonder what Solas would make of this. Her eyes flitted to the wolf watching her a short distance away.

“You worry it will leave us,” she crooned, a dip of worry in her voice. “Let me not distract you,i will keep apace. Please do as you wish. Do as your heart bids you do.”

Lavellan took a step toward the Wolf; the wolf stepped back. The dance continued until once more she followed in its footsteps. Cole and Spirituality drifted at her side.

As they followed after the Wolf, Spirituality mused over Lavellan’s intention.

“You tell me Solas has been taking pains to keep himself from you,” she said, gesturing to the hulking wolf ahead of them. “That only this manifestation from the Fade seeks you out, and it does so as a part of his deep subconscious mind. If you seek out Solas himself, and you follow the Wolf to him, will he not just force himself awake when he discovers you? He clearly does not want to be found.”

“He may…” Lavellan frowned. “Or he might talk to me.”

Spirituality sighed, then shook her head in thought. “Long ago, the world was less rife with discord. I could talk to the People… learn things. Teach things. In this way we all grew. But the wisdom accumulated by the People? Some of it was perversed to pride. As a Spirit of Spirituality itself, I was in no way a small part of this. And I recall the day Fen’harel put up the Veil. I… have had few to speak with since that time.”

So she was an ancient spirit, then.

“The Immortality of the elves was something learnt from Spirits. It was the simplest thing, really… how could we converse with these things if they died so easily? Thus, we prolonged that conversation. It was the earliest thing we ever taught them. Eventually they sought knowledge, and we were happy to share it. As they grew, so did we.”

Lavellan listened with earnest at this information. It was new to her, but somehow she felt as if she’d heard it all before.

“The People were capable of great things, because they could interact with both worlds… while we could only watch. They could make ideas tangible. Spirits are a raw, conscious manifestation of potential, but your kind are the wielders of such power. We give you reinforcement in the meager ways we can, and we reap from your experiences. The process repeats itself. It was a very symbiotic relationship, at first.”

“At first?”

“A light casts shadows, my dear. Even in the Fade. The world sings a different song, now,” Spirituality mused. “You, Lavellan, stand apart. As Cole has told you, you are unique here even without the Mark. You are radiant,” she squeezed Lavellan’s hand. “You are special. I can see why the Dread Wolf cares for you. It is part of why I find you so fascinating. And this brings me to my point, Lavellan.”

There was a long pause, and Spirituality kept hold of Lavellan’s hand.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to teach you, if I may.”

Lavellan reeled at her words: it was no insignificant offer. “That… is very kind of you,” she breathed, and considered her words carefully. “Over the past few years, I admit I have learnt I know little of the Fade and Spirits. No matter how comfortable I am here, it is an abyss of all the things unknown to me. Solas taught me that.”

Spirituality grinned. “All of the Elvhen magic you hold in high regard was derived from the things my peers revealed to them. The purest magic, unmuddled or lost in translation. I feel a small responsibility for the pain you endure… and I believe you will be the better for what I can offer you. I think we could better each other. But before all that… I would like you to speak with Solas. And come back to tell me of it. Can you do that?”

She nodded.

Spirituality steadily came to a halt, and her milky white eyes looked blankly towards the wolf. The Wolf eyed her back, its many red eyes glowing ominously against its dark black features. Both were terrible, in their own way.

“We are almost there, so I think it’s best if we put a damper on you,” she said, draping something unseeable across Lavellan’s shoulders, and seemingly tying it in an imaginary knot. “There. The cowl disguises you. Otherwise, your lover might flee from you, as this Wolf does.”

Cole was wide-eyed and staring. “You’re not you anymore!”

“She is!” Spirituality giggled, a music unto itself. “She’s just hiding it a bit better. Think of it this way: if he believes you are a part of his dream, then he won’t run away.”

“That does make sense,” Lavellan admitted.

“Let’s take it off you, then,” she said, unknotting the cowl.

Lavellan did not feel anything as the invisible fabric slid from her shoulders. But as it did, and Spirituality held it up for her to see, it became tangible. With deliberate care, the cloak was placed in to Lavellan’s hands. It was as odd sensation: even though she held it, she could not feel it.

“It is important you not put this on until the Wolf has led you the rest of the way, otherwise the beast will not flee to its master. And don’t act too forward, either… or he might grow suspicious.”

Lavellan nodded again.

“Oh! And remember! He will think you a part of his dream now… but when he leaves the Fade, the Wolf will no longer be independent. It will have returned to his mind. He will know what we have discussed, what we have done, what we are doing. He will know all of it.”

Lavellan hesitated. She wasn’t altogether comfortable with fooling Solas, but if it was the only way she could get near him… then it had to be done. Only one question remained unanswered, and it had been haunting her for some time now. She eyed the Spirit warily. “Why are you helping me?”

A musical laugh filled the air, and Spirituality leaned playfully against her.

“Dear! You and Solas are the two most talked about Elvhen in all the Fade! The story of your love is so fraught with intrigue it could put your friend Tethras’ tales to shame! My very nature alone makes me more than a little curious. So go on, and tell me about it later. Only you can satiate this desperate curiosity of mine. Go on now. Go!”


	3. Bitter Sweet Fool: Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wolf falls in to the rabbit's trap.

Lavellan waded through a thick ocean of darkness, her sharp elven eyes struggling to see the safest path ahead. The Fade was no longer a friendly vista full of flowers and forests: it was cramped and narrow. Debris was strewn helter skelter along the ground, and more than once she had tripped on a hard edged box or book. It must have been night, she guessed. Even though there was no moonlight, a cool breeze rushed goose pimples up and down her skin. Damp. Perhaps she was underground?

Red dots hovered in the corridor ahead, blurring. Most people would find the glow eerie, but she took comfort. The Wolf was her guide, his eyes her beacon in the darkness, and she followed his lead with diligence. A shiver overtook her. It was difficult to suppress the temptation to throw the cowl across her shoulders, but she reminded herself of Spirituality’s warning: ‘You must not put this on until the Wolf has led you the rest of the way, otherwise the beast will not flee to its master.’

Knowing he was close, she had left her friends behind quite some time ago. Now only the Wolf kept her company. It was a welcome silence: her heart had climbed so high into her throat, she didn’t think she could carry much of a conversation. 

As she followed the Wolf’s trail, she watched the Fade shift. It was becoming less of her and more of him. Ancient Elvhen architecture formed all around, and the floor had turned to tile. Soon, she was standing in the doorway to a grand hall, lit brightly by large stained glass windows shattered with colour. The walls were impossibly tall and stacked with books. The Wolf was gone, she noted. It had slipped into the shadows unnoticed.

Lavellan tread in to the room with care and quiet, marvelling. There was such detail in this fragment of the Fade, it wasn’t like a dream at all. But where had the wolf gone? She took a quick account of the room, her head poking in to all the various nooks and alcoves. Shafts of light formed slanting columns across the floor, and walking through one such beam set her awash in radiant warmth. A citrus scent drifted through the air, and she absently wondered if there were orange trees nearby, or if the light itself was actually perfumed.

She turned in to the next alcove, and froze.

A hand. White and slender, and highlighted by a sharp angle of light. It stretched out from an inky darkness, idly resting on a heap of books. As stark as the sun was, it made the shadows that much thicker… but she knew that hand. She knew its touch. Its care. Its taste. 

She rounded the table, her eyes acclimating to the darkness. A few candles breathed softly on the desk, illuminating his face as he slept. The wicks were nearly spent, and she realised that they were probably left over from a night of study.

It was him. The real him.

She hesitated. Would the cowl work – or would he run? If she woke him here, would it wake him everywhere? Would he be happy to see her, or would he be angry? 

As she closed the gap between them, she saw that he wore something new: a golden tunic tailored at the shoulders and chest, but loose and comfortably belted around his waist. His signature wolf pelt was draped across his shoulders and, at the moment, seemed to be of service as a pillow.

Would he smell the same? Would he think her a demon? What if he guessed at what was happening?

With a delicate hand she stretched out her fingers to rest on his shoulder, and gingerly roused him from his slumber. A moan echoed throughout. The quiet library stirred, and she watched as he rolled a strain of tension from his shoulders. His lashes fluttered, and he looked at her through dreamy eyes.

“Vhenan,” he smiled, putting his hand on hers. He had the decency to look pleasantly surprised.

His welcome was unexpected, and Lavellan hesitated. If the guise worked, Solas should think her a part of his dream; a figment from the Fade.

He kissed her wrist wistfully, pressing the back of her hand to his cheek. “Must you haunt me so?”

She raised her brow, smirking, “Am I such a ghast?”

“More like a haunting beauty.”

Lavellan eyed the length of empty bench beside him. Kicking a leg over, she straddled the seat and sat facing him. She got close. Close enough so she might study his mannerisms. He didn’t seem to suspect a thing, though. The cowl was working.

The realisation of his obliviousness angered her. It shouldn’t, but it did. His lack of suspicion told her that he never considered she might ever manage this feat. Perhaps he never suspected she might get help from the spirit world? Or perhaps he didn’t know such a cowl existed. Fighting back the resentment these thoughts spurred, she tried to still the sense of irritation. Instead, she tried to welcome him as he was, and eased herself into his complacency. This was the encounter she had been wanting for so long.

“Ma vhenan,” she cooed, leaning into him. “What were you reading?”  
Solas splayed his slender fingers across the open pages, parchment paper crinkling from the pressure. “I am trying to save you.”

“Save me?” she choked. 

Concern shadowed his eyes. “Going over my notes from millennia ago. If I can…” there was a small crack in his voice, and when he looked at her his eyes were pleading. “…they need me, vhenan. I must fix my mistakes. But if I can manage a way to save you? I will exhaust every aspect possible.” Light glinted from the melancholy in his grey eyes, mirroring the desperation his voice clearly betrayed.

She felt his pain. The Fade magnified emotions, she knew. Usually, he is a master at keeping his feelings in check. But here, in the safety of his own dream, he was unguarded. Today he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Might there be an easier way, ma vhenan?” she said, before mending her words. “No, not necessarily easier… but better? If you sought help? Maybe more minds might make the difference? I’m sure they’d rather help you than risk the world burning.”

He captured her gaze, an air of thoughtfulness about him. “Burn? It might not. But it will be lost, that much I know. Imagine a world of ice, vhenan. Trapped within the ice is a civilisation imprisoned by cold, kept dormant by whatever magics froze them. On the surface of the ice, another civilisation grows. These people learnt to use the ice, to shape it, to make tools and gather food.” He was gesturing as he spoke, talking delicately with his hands, and motioning to the Fade around them. “They made life happen on the bones of the People before them, and they depend on the ice for survival. Through time and superstition they learnt to fear the faces in the ice, to demonize them. But let’s say they eventually advanced enough that they could melt all the ice, and save the faces trapped within… doing so would surely destroy all they know and hold dear, and all they rest their civilisation on. Would they do it? To save a civilisation that would compete with them? And a People who they fear?”

His words gave her pause. He was right: it was a stupid idea to think the people of Thedas would help. The world might not burn, but would indefinitely be changed. “So things will be different — is that bad? Something needs to change! I agree! Will we not survive all this?”

A heaviness weighed upon Solas’ shoulders, and he opened his mouth to reply but quickly shut it. He seemed to think carefully about his words, chewing over each as he said them. “In truth? I do not know. Back then, I did not know what would happen if the People were severed from the Fade, not entirely. I thought there might be… acceptable repercussions,” he admitted. “I was a fool. Hot headed. Impulsive. Now what I do, I do with full awareness of the consequences that may be wrought. And yes, some humans might survive. But have you talked to Cassandra about her time in the Crossroads? In the Fade? It is not an appealing place for them. I imagine that if they live through the cataclysm, they will find the state of the world… painful.”

“What of the elves?”

“If the elves of this time manage to survive through the earthly turmoil that will ensue, then yes… they will live. And be better off, I wager. As word spreads of my rebellion amongst the Dalish, it is this fact that stirs them to my cause. Win or lose, they fight for a better future.”

“…and me?”

“You are a paragon of your people, but you shoulder more responsibility than most. If I have hope for any of the Dalish to live through this, it would be you. But…” he flashed a wicked grin. “I suspect I am biased.”

“I can help you, Solas. I don’t understand why-”

“You know I walk the Din'anshiral. It is my burden, not yours. I fight so my People might live. And I struggle so that you might live.”

His dismissal was disappointing, but expected. “Why do you sound optimistic for my life, but not your own?” she demanded, anger welling in her eyes.

“Because I do not know what will happen, vhenan. At best? I shall sleep, and you will live a full life. But I will do everything I can to keep you safe.” His eyes took hold of hers again, his voice waning in his grief. 

She leaned in, touching her nose to his. It was a gentle gesture, something her mother had often done. A moment of quiet passed between them. Then seconds. Then an eternity. Time was meaningless in the Fade, all that mattered was this lingering connection.

Neither wanted to break away.

She studied the dip of his nose, the smattering of freckles on his cheek, the scar above his brow. She breathed deeply, inhaling his breath and its familiar smell. It was dizzying. It made her lightheaded.

With feather-like delicacy, she pressed her lips to his, ghosting over the bow of his lip. His mouth didn’t deny her. The softness of his skin was like putty under her gently rolling kisses. His weight shifted, and she sensed an alertness writhe in him like a cat. 

That was when she realised her mistake. Spirituality had told her not to be too forward — warned her of making him suspicious. 

 

The blood in her veins crystallised, and a tension overtook her; what had she done? Her eyes flew open, an apology already on her lips. At his scrutiny, the words sat uselessly on her tongue. Frozen.

He studied her. His gaze was imploring, but not unkind. Then with slow, methodical deliberation, he kissed her back. His passion was like a quiet burn that thawed the ice in her veins. She let his body lean into hers, tilting the angle of her head as his lips urgently curled over her own. Her breath quickened into staggered gasps, fighting to keep pace with his. It was a battle balancing the urge to breathe and a need to taste him. 

His hand was in her hair, the other along her thigh. As his weight gently pushed against her, she twined her fingers into the furs of his sash, grasping for purchase. His breath was hot against the blush of her cheeks, but she welcomed it. There was a shrill, echoing squeak as the bench slid rudely along the tiled floor. A pause. His mouth rest open, swollen lips hovering above hers. The tension between their skin was palpable; kinetic.

“I …” he began, halting as his breath struggled to steady. He blinked away the embers in his eyes. Lavellan felt a cool touch as his fingers absently tucked a stray hair behind her ear; his thumb tracing the contour of her jaw. He withdrew his touch with a sigh. “…apologies, I lost myself. You are remarkably alike.”

”Alike..?” she was confused.

”You are but a dream, my dear. A selfish manifestation of my desires; a vision of someone I care for.”

At his words, Lavellan exhaled with relief. This was her confirmation. The wool was over the wolf’s eyes, now, and the spirit’s guise was working. Still, the deception made her feel guilty, and it hurt her heart to see his pain. She knew he would collect the memories of his stray wolf, and what it had done. What it had witnessed. He might not believe her now, but he would know it in time. She knew that when he woke, he would look back at this moment and know who she was. She didn’t want to lie to him. She grasped his hand, pressing it to her cheek. “I am real,” she insisted.

A bitter smile stretched across his face, “You are as real as my memory shapes you to be… perfection in all its angles.”

“And what about new memories?” she whispered. “Are you ever going to come back to me?” 

Solas leaned in, touching his forehead to hers. “If the fates are kind.”

She smiled at that. “I always thought the fates were more funny than kind. A Dalish saving Orlais? And in love with Fen’Harel? When taking your beloved’s hand isn’t a marriage reference but literal? They must have a wicked sense of humour.”

There was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “Fen’harel. Vhenan, you must know the relief I feel when you say that name. Do you? A title, true, but more than that… it reminds me I have nothing to hide from you. It is a gift.”

“Fen’Harel…” she cooed, brushing kisses along his fingers. She saw his contentment, and it pleased her.

“I never thought to enjoy the sound of that name; not until your lips had shaped the word,” he said, his voice full of awe. “For all that is, my path has brought me to you. And whatever else transpires, whatever else may come… I am grateful for that.“

“I am grateful for your mistakes. For the world you created, and the freedom you fought for.”

The corner of his lip curled into a wicked grin, “Vhenan, you would have been a terrible thorn in the Evanuris’ side. Maybe more so than I.”

“Likely. But I’d rather be by your side,” she replied, letting loose his hand and inching closer to his person. “If you hadn’t given the orb to Corypheus, and I hadn’t wielded the mark… I wouldn’t be who I am. I am grateful for that, too.”

His hands were in her hair, nails sliding gently along her scalp. “My heart… can you ever forgive me?”

“For what?” she asked with gentle curiosity.

“For what I’ve done to you. Both directly… and indirectly. For the chaos I’ve caused.”

She raised her arm. “And don’t forget this,” she teased, wiggling her Fade-formed fingers.

He studied her hand, perplexed and seemingly dissatisfied with the image of it. “Apparently even in my mind, I reshape the wounds I’ve inflicted on you. I’m so sorry.”

Then she said something that she knew would surprise him, and it was something she knew never to repeat in front of her advisers. “Thedas is broken, Solas. It has been for a long, long time. I try to fix things… but it’s impossible. You’re the only one who sees that. You know what to do. You’re the only one who does.” It wasn’t a lie.

He smiled at her sincerity. “And even here, you astonish me. Quite a feat for a figment of my own imagination.” His brow furrowed. “Still. I confess, I haven’t had a dream this lovely in a long while.”

Something about those words was decidedly romantic. She leaned in, pressing her weight on the bench between his thighs, and kissed the side of his mouth. “Is it? The most lovely dream?”

“The only thing better would be if you were real.”

A growl vibrated from his throat. Her pulse quickened, and a thought nagged at the back of her mind. Did she want to go down this path right now?

The tip of her tongue slicked over his swollen lip. In answer, his hands cupped around her waist and tipped the balance. As she leaned in to him, his lips brushed along her neck. A thumb slid down the hem of her blouse, coursing a trickle of electricity along her skin. 

Last time they had met, she was in pain and allowed only a farewell kiss. Here, there was nothing to keep them chaste.

Teasingly, she pulled on his tunic. His hands gripped the edge of the wooden table for balance, but he allowed her to guide him down. Their bodies stretched precariously along the length of the narrow bench. She held him close; her legs coiled around his thighs.

His mouth slated across hers, the sweet warmth of his lips giving invitation to taste his tongue. One strong hand managed to pin both of hers above her head in one deft grasp. His other hand gripped the bench at her waist, leveraging for support. Their bodies moved in waves, teasing against the restriction of their clothing. Lavellan rolled her body against him, but she was growing impatient. She bucked. A rough objection roused from his throat, but it was more like a purr than a growl. She gave another deliberate nudge of the hips, flipping their balance as they tumbled to the floor. She saw the breathless surprise on his face, his broad chest heaving. She wanted to do everything right then, right there.

But she remembered what Cole and Spirituality had said. He doesn’t know what the Wolf has done till he wakes up. Despite the truth she had given, she knew he would not possibly think her genuine. Not yet. She could shed the cowl, but it would surely only shock him into leaving. And with that, he would be the one with the last word.

She couldn’t do this. 

Arching over his body, she slid her hands from his wrists until they rest atop his chest. She leaned forward, a halo of creamy white hair falling upon his brow. Her face hovered inches from his, and a warmth spread across her lips as she gently placed a kiss on the bridge of his nose. 

“Solas. You once told me that what we had was real. I remind you that just because things are different than they used to be can’t possibly mean that they don’t matter.”

“You matter,” he whispered.

“Yes. Remember that. And know that I will find a way to help you. What we have is real, Solas.” She kissed him. “Wake up.”


	4. Bitter Sweet Fool: Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the wolf realizes the game.

……

What we have is real, Solas.

Wake up.

……

His eyes opened to darkness, but squinted as if blinded from the sun. No light of day could ever hope to peek in to the depths of these caverns, he knew, but it was a memory that burned his retinas. Rays of sun glinting from tendrils of creamy blonde hair. Overexposed skin reflecting white as she passed under a shaft of light. The halo at the edge of her figure as she leaned towards him. Then there was the smell. The sunlight smelled like oranges, as it often did — but this time it was infused with the delicate spice of her skin and sweat.

Fenhedis.

He had been awake for some time, but was loath to move. Instead, he had spent the past who-knows-how-long laying in bed, going over the night in his mind. He had experienced many precious moments in the Fade, but an encounter like this? It was worth savoring.

What had he been doing before she…? How did he not notice her?

Before she came to him in the library, he had been looking over his old notebooks; ruminating on all the theories and practices he had compiled in order to erect the Veil. Without hesitation, he knew how to tear it down. The power he’d lost was regained, and it was but a trifling matter. But there were repercussions he had not foreseen — attachments he had not predicted. If possible, he’d like to spare as much discomfort for the people born from the chaos as he could. And… if he could spare her, too?

Yes. He would try. But it was tiresome work.

He had been so exhausted from his toiling that he’d fallen in to a second sleep. It was becoming more and more common these days. He allowed himself the respite, allowing even his spirit to rest… but he knew there was a danger.

With marked concern, he would often wake up with memories of secret dreams. He knew the reason, of course. While his presence in the Fade retreated in to deeper sleep, a part of him unwound and trailed away, almost as if possessing a will of its own. More accurately, though, his subconscious was quite literally letting his curiosity get away from him. It was as if his mind was sleep walking. He would often wake up with a sudden recollection of seeing Lavellan, for instance. In disguise as a wolf, he would hunt her down in the Fade and watch from a distance. This revelation was alarming, at first — but soon Solas considered it an asset. He might learn things from observing her that his spies could not. Many times he had seen her from behind the shadows in the Fade, talking to Cole in whispered voices. Sometimes she was looking over past experiences, other times she was exploring. Once, he’d seen her swimming in a lake warmed by a memory of dragon fire. This was especially thought provoking. She had been practising to manipulate the Fade, he knew… and this was undeniable proof of her growing strength. He wondered if she knew just how strong such practises could make her. He wondered what greatness she would achieve in a world without the Veil.

This time was different than the rest. Many times she had seen him watch her – but this time, she followed. And she wasn’t alone! Somehow, she and Cole managed to entertain the curiosity of a highly evolved spirit. Not just any spirit, either — but Spirituality herself. He smirked at that. Lavellan had certainly grown these past few years. She was getting all sorts of friendly with the spirit world, was she not? Spirituality was a benevolent spirit, but also an extremely ancient one. He had crossed paths with her on more than one occasion, though he hadn’t seen her in several hundred years. She was not fond of the Veil, and thus less than enthused with Solas himself.

He could not deny that he was impressed. She had gotten past his labyrinth, deceived his sharp senses, and made him assume she was a figment of his own imagination. The cowl she wore rendered her flawlessly incognito. And how could he think she was anything but a dream? Bathed in the warmth of the sun, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He had dreamt of her before, of course… but never with such vivid intricacy. Perhaps that was the giveaway, but he was too dazzled to realise. And as a dream, he thought he could… well. What happened next could not have been helped. There are ways to cope with loneliness, and he thought he’d found his. He wasn’t expecting her to have found her way to him in the Fade. He hadn’t thought she’d conceal herself under a shroud of spirits… let alone be betrayed by his own subconscious.

And then she took it all away. She left him both dazed and confused. 

He both admired and regretted her morality. He would not have admonished her if she’d kept the illusion going, but he did respect her for stopping it. She was constantly surprising him, he reminded himself. She knew him well, and knew how to play at her games.

A smile spread across his face. Games. It had been a millennia since he’d played any of that sort with — had anyone to play them with. He wondered what she’d do if the tables were turned…

The thought made him chuckle, and he put a hand to his brow. As fun as all that would be, he had more important things to deal with at the moment. Time was running short — the Dragon Age was approaching its end. Things needed to be taken care of.

For the moment, though, a cold bath ought to do it.


End file.
